


Courting Disaster

by Rachael Sabotini (wickedwords)



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Early Work, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-10-09
Updated: 1998-10-09
Packaged: 2018-03-09 13:26:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3251393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwords/pseuds/Rachael%20Sabotini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cold night, a broken furnace, and a shared bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Courting Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the HLWC title challenge

A puff of sooty black smoke issued from the heating duct, and after twenty minutes of gasping, choking, and whining, the resultant silence was deafening. MacLeod didn't dare to speak up, not after his constant reassurances that the heater 'acted like that sometimes.' Stillness invaded the loft, carrying with it the essence of one frustrated Immortal and one extremely guilty one.

Finally, the strain got to be too much. Methos grumbled from beneath his pile of blankets covering the couch. "So, Mister-always-prepared, what's the plan now?"

Duncan sighed. "It's two am, Methos. There's not a lot I can do right now." He fell back onto the pillows on the bed. "The plan, as you call it, is to get some sleep."

Methos sat up and stared over at him, moving into full 'pound-of-flesh' mode. "That is not a plan, MacLeod. 'I'm going to go down to the basement to fix the furnace' is a plan."

"Not at two, it's not!" Duncan shouted indignantly. "I'll fix it in the morning. Just get some sleep."

"Get some sleep." Methos mimicked the tired tone. "Now *that* is a fantasy. It's too cold to sleep. I don't like it when the heater goes out-- it's one of the reason I *rent* apartments. I always have someone to call, even at two o' clock in the morning." He pulled the covers up over his shoulders and shivered dramatically. "Can't you call someone in?"

"At the hourly rate I'd have to pay? It'll wait for morning." With that, Duncan seemed to give up on sleep. He sat up, crossed his arms around his knees, and rested his cheek on top. His hair spilled around his face, granting him the illusion of innocence in the moonlight. "Methos, you didn't have central heating for millennia. Why is one night without heat such a big deal?"

Methos just couldn't argue when Duncan looked so wistful, and he felt some of his own frustration drain away at the Highlander's gentle tone. / _If I were a horse, I'd be eating out of his hand./_ He hated it when he felt...vulnerable...like that. "Because...well...it's cold. I get cold. My feet turn to slabs of ice and my fingers turn blue." He paused a moment, for effect. "Not to mention my ass."

Duncan blinked, and Methos smiled. Nice to know that mentioning certain body parts got a reaction. Made up for that 'wistful' look Mac had been giving him.

"So you get cold. I've given you twenty blankets, and still you get cold." Mac sounded exasperated, and that more than made up for the wistfulness of a little earlier. Too much wistfulness, and he'd want to go over there and make MacLeod feel better, and who knew where they would end up then?

Best to keep some distance. "MacLeod, unlike you and your sturdy Northern body, I don't have layers of personal insulation to keep me warm. I have to make do with outside sources."

"Are you saying I'm fat?" Now *that* was indignation.

"Never said a word."

"Come on, admit it. You think I'm fat."

"No. I think you're *warm.* Trust me, I don't look at your naked body and think, 'my god, that man is a heifer.'"

"A heifer." Ice. Solid, unbreakable ice. Best back peddle a bit.

"I didn't say you were a heifer -- I was just illustrating a point. Detailed personal observations of your body have led me to conclude that there is only one area that is, ah, animalistic in design. And I quite enjoy that part, actually."

"You do." Mac blinked, a slow smile drifting onto his face. "So, what do you think about it?"

Mental whiplash took effect. Was MacLeod intimating...? "Sorry." Methos shook his head. "Didn't quite catch that." He looked over at Duncan, who grinned ferally back at him.

"What do you think when you're looking at my sturdy naked Northern body and its animalistic parts?"

Methos knew his IQ had just dropped a dozen points. "What do I think? I think, I wonder if he would notice if I stole his covers."

"Oh." Mac looked away, and Methos breathed a little easier. "You're welcome to come share them, you know."

His IQ dropped again. "Pardon?"

"My covers." Duncan looked back at Methos, his hair falling around his face, framing it. "You're welcome to come share them. It'll be warmer if there's two of us."

Damn. The wistful look was back. "Oh."

"Just for tonight, Methos. I'll fix the furnace in the morning."

"I--"

"Look, I won't jump you, I promise." Mac smiled lazily. "If it'll make you feel any better, I'll even find something to use as a bundling board, so I'll be sure and stay on my side."

Methos smiled slowly back. "Can we use the Katana?"

"No swords. I don't want to end up with bloodstains on the sheets."

"Spoilsport." Methos quickly left his pile of blankets and crawled in beside Duncan. "Where's the board?"

Duncan looked around, grabbed the first thing he saw, and dropped the August issue of Sunset magazine between them. "Satisfied?"

"That's not a proper bundling board. It doesn't have any weight."

"Should I get the crowbar instead?"

Methos snuggled deep under the covers. "Nope, I'm suddenly feeling safe and secure because we are separated by an 8 1/2 X 11, one-inch thick glossy magazine featuring 'The Ultimate Backyard Barbecue' on its cover." He paused. "Do you have a backyard?"

"No." Duncan rolled over. "Now get some sleep."

Methos stretched out and pressed his feet back against MacLeod's warmth.

"Hey! Watch it. " Duncan's voice sank in astonishment. "You *are* cold."

"That is a brilliant deduction, MacLeod. Now, scoot over. I don't have any room on my side." Lying back-to-back, Methos burrowed himself deep into Duncan's warmth.

Only to have Mac scream and practically jumped out of the bed in his haste to get away. He whirled around and glared down at Methos. "What the hell was that?"

"My butt." Methos sighed. "I told you, I get cold."

Mac shook his head. "You didn't mention you have a terminal case of arctic ass when I invited you into my bed."

"You didn't invite me into your bed."

"I didn't? Then what are you doing here?"

"You invited me to *share* your bed." Methos pointed his finger emphatically. "There's a difference."

"There is?" Mac crawled back under the covers, and gingerly, carefully, hesitantly, settled down next to Methos as if he was expecting the other Immortal to snap at him like a crocodile. "What is it?"

He looked so wide-eyed an innocent right now, Methos couldn't resist. "When you invite someone into your bed, you help them to generate some heat. Sharing a bed, it's each man for himself."

His expression moving from innocence to devilment in the span of one breath, Mac's voice dropped into the sultry range with his response. "What about if I warm you up? "

Previously frozen bits of Methos' anatomy perked up at that thought. "Careful, MacLeod. The bundling board, remember?" Methos gestured at the magazine. "You said my virtue was safe."

Mac scooted a little closer to Methos, but still left the magazine between them. "Well, those things get disturbed all the time. Little 'courting disasters' as I recall." He smiled conspiratorially. "I'm sure it must have happened to you?"

"Oops." Methos tossed the magazine off the end of the bed. "Silly me. Don't know how that happened."

Mac drifted a finger down the side of Methos' face, letting it rest at the base about Methos' neck. "What about your virtue?"

"Oh, that. Don't know I ever had any." Methos levered himself up onto his arms, so he could catch Duncan's eyes. "And if I were you, I'd be more worried about yours."

Mac snorted. "You said I was a heifer."

"No, I said you were sturdy. There's a difference."

"There is." Mac sounded dubious. "And what might that be?"

Methos slid one of his hands down and caressed Duncan's cock. "I've never seen a heifer with one of these..."

Mac yelped and pulled away. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Warming my hands?" Methos stared benignly up at him, then rolled back and patted the empty mattress beside him. "Come on. Friction does wonders for generating heat."

Duncan grabbed his wrist. "Don't try to use my privates as your own personal hand-warmer. Those *things*," he tossed the offending hand back onto Methos' chest, "aren't exactly flesh right now. They are *actually* large slabs of ice, and don't try to pretend they're not."

"Mac, you wound me. Really, they just need to be put someplace..." Methos' voice dropped an octave as he slid his now-warmed hands between Duncan's thighs, "...really hot." Mac groaned low as Methos' fingers wrapped around his cock, teasing and caressing its length. "They don't feel like ice now, do they?"

Mac just glared at him.

Okay, fun wasn't working. Time for endearingly sweet. "Please?"

Not even MacLeod was immune to that one. With a distrustful look, Duncan settled next to Methos under the sheets.

Methos rolled onto his stomach so he could whisper into Mac's ear. "You really could be one of the best bed warmers that I've had. " He grinned unrepentantly as Mac's gaze momentarily lost its focus on the present. _Got you,_ Methos thought to himself as he turned onto his side, sliding his hand back under the covers and toward Duncan's warm skin. "That is, if you were willing to generate a little more heat."

Methos ran his palm over the tip of Duncan's shaft. "I have some other...bits... that need to be warmed. You have any other place I might put them?" He leaned over and carded his fingers though the hair on Mac's chest.

Mac lifted his head and brushed his lips over Methos'. He sat up as he pulled Methos to him, opening his mouth and deepening the kiss. "I think that can be arranged."

"Good." That was one word more than Methos wanted to say.

Gentle kisses lost to strong as their playfulness transformed itself to fire, every inch of Methos' skin burning with each incinderary touch. Molten desire cried out its need; Methos turned and twisted so that Mac's cock thrust harshly against his own. He grabbed Duncan with both hands, pulling him down on top of him, kissing him -- devouring him -- with mouth and hands. Mac growled and thrust, nipping and nibbling at whatever bit of Methos' flesh found its way near. Methos' hand slid down to Mac's ass, pulling Duncan to him as he pushed back against Duncan, his finger clawing so deep he knew he had to have drawn blood.

The instant shattered into a thousand shards as life pulsed out between them, fusing them together with its warmth. Duncan shuddered and collapsed the rest of the way, smearing them both tit to crotch with the results of their labor.

"I never noticed this before," Methos glanced over at Mac, the afterglow still languidly rolling through his system. "But these sheets are disgusting. You should call a laundry after you call the electrician tomorrow, and see if they pick up."

"The electrician."

"For the heater." Methos scooted down so he could fit his head on the Highlander's chest, twisted suddenly and nipped at the closest nipple. "I know for a fact you'll be too busy to fix it yourself."

Duncan threw back his head and laughed.


End file.
